Buckner, a sweet-scented pink of Southern chivalry; though he must have his little fling at us, and call General Grant ’ungenerous and unchivalrous,’ it does not strike me with stunning force that he, ingrate that he is, and traitor to the government that educated him, is exactly the one to teach us what chivalry is, or how it ought to treat vanquished rebels.  No, the days of chivalry are not gone.  While the base counterfeit that has so often been thrust upon us by Southern braggadocios, and indorsed by Northern sneaks and doughfaces, has been detected, and, thank God! is being thrown out as fast as shot and shell can knock it out, there never was a greater abundance of the genuine metal than there is now and here in this land of ours.

Not alone in war and warlike deeds does modern chivalry show itself.  There is a chivalry in religion, that, in spite of the howlings of creed-worshipers, dares to throw off the shackles of antiquated and intolerant dogmas, and believe and teach the religion of humanity, of ‘peace on earth and good-will to men.’  It is the chivalry in religion that has smitten and is daily smiting with its gleaming lance the host of old prejudices, letting in upon us the glorious golden sunshine, allowing us to revel in it and to see this world as it is, joyous and beautiful.  True, some of the old superstitions that burned the witches linger in the path, like grim dragons, to frighten us.  But they are weak and toothless, and are fast losing their terrors; and the spirit of chivalry in religion is marching on, and smiting them one by one, and one by one they fall.  But while men are emancipating themselves from the ancient errors, it is sad to see that the same bugbears that infested the path of our great grandparents in the pinafore period of their existence, are brought to bear upon our children.  Especially in Sabbath-school literature is this manifest.  Impossible patterns of piety and propriety are set before a stout, healthy boy, and he, in the flush of his lusty life, is taught to believe that the only road to paradise lies through some pulmonary affection.  For the sake of all these dear little ones, and for the sake of the Master who loved them so well, do let them have some more natural and healthy mental and moral food!

And this leads me to speak of literature in general.  And have we not a chivalry here that is working a revolution?  And who is the bravest knight in the field?  Who but our own genial Meister Karl-Mace Sloper?  Isn’t it glorious though, the way he rides into the lists, and with his diamond-pointed lance pricks the tender skins of the lackadaisical poetasters and lachrymose prosy-scribblers of our day!  Again, O gallant leader! smite them again.  And fall in, ye who wield the pen!  Let the bugles sound the charge, and let our literature be cleared of Laura Matildas and Martin Firecracker Splutters forever!